Page 51 of Lost in Translation
‘You were busy with the boys at summer camp,’ huffed Dom. ‘And I needed the time away, as I already told you.’
‘Yes, butalone, Dom, not with a woman you’ve repeatedly denied being involved with. Anyway, Alicia saw her all over you like a rash.’ That, ridiculously, reminded Charlotte of Ruth’s dermatologist beau. Right now she wanted to talk to her friend and hear Ruth’s wise counsel, which would probably involve a string of expletives and a demand that she boot Dom’s cheating arse out the door.
‘Amelie’s very flirtatious and touchy-feely,’ countered Dom. ‘I bet that shit-stirring cow witnessed Amelie giving me a friendly hug and twisted it out of proportion.’
Charlotte hesitated. Shehadwondered if Alicia drew some warped pleasure from telling her what she’d seen. Maybe she’d got it wrong or chosen to put a nasty spin on it. ‘Have you kissed her?’
Dom looked distinctly uncomfortable. He squirmed in his chair, his gaze fixed on the grotty light fixture that barely illuminated the terrace and provided a home for dead insects. ‘Once or twice,’ he answered. ‘I told you, I’m an idiot, but people make mistakes. I’m sorry, sweetheart, truly I am.’
Charlotte pictured the two of them snogging like hormonal teenagers and shuddered. ‘You know, Dom, you’re like the little boy who cried wolf. I’ve wondered so many times whether you were sneaking around behind my back, and now I find out that you have, and yet I’m supposed to believe that nothing much happened. In most wives’ eyes, their husband kissing another woman is definitely crossing a line.’
‘I know, I know. Look, it’s out in the open now. I’m not proud of myself, but I’m only human.’ Dom gave Charlotte a watery smile which she failed to return. Exhaustion washed over her, and she got to her feet.
‘I’m going to bed now, and I’d prefer it if you slept on the sofa tonight. You can get bedding from the upstairs cupboard.’
‘But what will the boys think if they find me there?’ Dom’s smile turned into a frown. ‘There’s no need to upset them, surely.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you can come up with a convincing story,’ said Charlotte, draining the last of her wine. ‘You’re very good at that.’
Chapter 42
‘Maybe you shouldtail him next time he disappears on some dodgy errand. Just make sure you know how to take a bloody photo with your phone.’
Charlotte laughed, conceding that her expertise at taking photos left much to be desired. She tried to share snaps of the boys with Ruth regularly, but the shots often came out blurry, or with a finger over the lens. ‘It’s not my strong suit, nor is carrying on like 007. I don’twantto follow him, Ruth. To be frank, I’m not sure I even care if he’s screwing around behind my back. And that scares me.’
Charlotte had woken early after a night of checking the clock at hourly intervals. Her eyeballs felt as if goblins in hobnailed or possibly sparkly biker boots had danced across them, and three industrial-strength coffees had done little to dispel the fog permeating her grey cells.
‘Sweetie, I’m gutted for you,’ said Ruth. ‘You deserve so much better than this, not least because he’s dragged you to a country you didn’t even want to go to, then done the dirty on you. Honestly, I’d tell him to pack his bags and go, at least till you’ve wrapped your head around it all.’
Charlotte nodded, the movement causing needles of pain to shoot through her head. She popped another paracetamol and downed it with a mouthful of water.
‘Is he there now?’ Ruth lowered her voice, eyes darting from side to side as if she expected Dom to leap into view.
‘No. He took the boys shopping for some new shorts and T-shirts, and then a spot of lunch.’
Dom’s night’s sleep had clearly been as disturbed as Charlotte’s. He’d stumbled around the kitchen complaining of backache, and his mood plummeted further when he discovered they were out of his favourite cereal.
‘Going for a gold medal in the father stakes, eh?’ quipped Ruth, familiar with Dom’s less than sterling record as a hands-on dad.
‘I guess so, although as a husband he’d be lucky to get the wooden spoon. God, Ruth, I don’t know what to do. My mind leaps around like a demented frog, one minute convinced I don’t want our marriage to end, the next thinking I don’t evenlikeDom much anymore. When Jürgen said I needed to put myself first—’
‘Whoa, back up there, girlfriend! Who exactly is Jürgen, and why has your face gone from glum to secret squirrel in a nanosecond?’ Ruth waggled a finger at her in a naughty-naughty gesture.
‘Oh, he’s just a friend,’ said Charlotte, hoping Ruth couldn’t see the pink flush spreading from her chest. ‘He’s been really kind to me and the boys, and he’s had experience of being cheated on in the past. I find it easy to talk to him, that’s all.’ Before Ruth could grill Charlotte further on Jürgen, Charlotte steered the conversation towards Simon and the big pregnancy reveal. ‘You told him, right?’
Ruth nodded and grinned. ‘It was honestly more terrifying than sitting my driving test, hon. All five attempts put together. I was shaking like a leaf, even though I’d prepared a speech.’
‘And?’ Charlotte’s own heart thumped in anticipation of Simon’s reaction.
‘Well, he realised I was in a bit of a state, so he made a pot of tea — proper English stuff — and produced home-made apple cake. What’s not to like about a man who can bake?’
Charlotte thought wistfully of the home-made biscuits Marcus had brought, then forced herself back to the more pressing matter of Ruth’s revelation.
‘Anyway, after two slices I felt better, but my planned speech had done a runner. I opened my big gob and just let it all out along the lines of, “I’m pregnant, you’re definitely the father, and if you want nothing to do with me — us — I completely understand.”’
‘Wow.’ Charlotte felt a wave of sympathy for poor Simon, who’d probably expected nothing more than a chance to pick up where he and Ruth had left off. ‘How did he take it?’ She imagined as a medical professional he was used to dealing with shocks, although lancing pus-filled boils and identifying rare skin conditions wasn’t quite in the same league.
‘Surprisingly well. OK, his face turned paler than a Japanese geisha’s, but all things considered, his reaction was positive. A lot calmer than when I saw those bloody blue lines screaming “positive” on the test stick. Trust me, Charlotte, you would not have enjoyed my screams, which only multiplied the more sticks I peed on.’
